


home

by heytherejones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heytherejones/pseuds/heytherejones
Summary: If Jughead had gone to live with the Cooper's instead, and Betty has no restraint.a.k.a these two idiots being horny and sneaking around.





	home

The cold air was still around them, keeping their cheeks flushed and tips of their noses red. Her arm was linked through his, snow crunching softly under their feet as they moved slowly, with no purpose or place to be. Betty Cooper couldn’t believe her freezing, numbed ears. That her mother, the stuck up, mind blowingly strict, _Alice Cooper_ had made such a suggestion. That both of her parents, who she’d sworn had been against her in her entirety of sixteen years, had agreed to let Jughead Jones reside under their roof. _But in separate bedrooms of course_.

 

Maybe it’s the way her hand is clasped so tightly to his, fingers laced together, warm fingertips heating his iced skin. Or just at the thought of him now with a bed to return to, a homemade meal to end every night, has her with a smile that she can’t bare to part with. Or maybe it’s the way she breathes out a soft, content sigh every few minutes that pass on the journey home, brain flooded with the thought of him just simply being happy. Maybe it’s not just one, but all of these things that make him realize he’s so crazy, insanely, and stupidly in love with her. She cared so much for him, and he’d been unsure as to why, but he was done with questioning it.

 

And he feels so lucky. Not only to love her, but that she loves him, because it seems so that her family does too. Enough to open their arms to him when he had nowhere to go. And he doesn’t think there will ever be a time, not even years from now, where he won’t feel so entirely grateful. His hold tightens on her, her hand squeezing back lightly as she looks to him, green eyes wide and so utterly laced with lust and love. And squeezing tighter, he pulls her to a stop. He swears she’s never looked at beautiful as she does now, hair golden and falling lightly over her shoulders, lips parted and slightly chapped from the cold air, cheeks flushed and nose slightly reddened at the tip. Since childhood, even during early teen years when hormones were high and obsessing over girls was all the rage, a phase Archie seemed to still be going through even now, he’d never admired someone’s beauty as he did Elizabeth Cooper’s, no man or woman. Jughead had always been able to determine if someone had been attractive, _sure_ . But never had he felt someone had been so truly beautiful, so mind numbingly gorgeous as she had been. He’d been sure he loved her when he first met her all those years ago. When the tree house was the shelter from drunken fathers and abusive mothers for him, shelter from fighting parents for Archie. The door had read, “ _no girls allowed”_ in red crayon in Archie’s messy handwriting, leaving a younger and naive Jughead beyond confused as he opened the door for the one and only Betty Cooper. Archie insisted she wasn’t like the other girls, _God,_ had he been right about that. Her head cocks to the side in confusion as to why he’d pulled her to stop. And before she can get a word of questioning out, her name is a whisper on his lips.

 

“Betty, I-” His mouth suddenly feels dry, her wide eyes on his. Her arm laced through his tugs lightly as though to pull the answer out of him. He’d known he was in love with her just about as soon as he’d met her. He’d never imagined her even feeling close to the same.

 

“I love you, Betty Cooper.”

 

“Jughead Jones-” His name comes out in a short lived breath of laughter.

 

“-I love you.” Those three words, three syllables pass her lips and he feels as though he’s near tears, lips pressing softly to hers.

 

~

 

Betty Cooper’s house had always felt like home. And so there's no feeling of worry or expectation when he sets foot through the door, shrugging jacket off and kicking boots to the side. Anything and everything he’d owned was tucked into his bag that slung over his shoulder, Alice showing him to the empty bedroom just across from Betty’s, right next to her and Hal’s. Again he feels overwhelming grateful, quickly glancing over the bed, _an actual bed,_ not the floor of the school’s janitor closet, or some mattress Fred had pulled onto the floor. A bed he’d get to thankfully call his own for as long as the Cooper’s would have him. And he realizes tonight could have gone so entirely differently. He’d have spent the night most likely in the trailer, alone on the South side of town. He shakes his head at the thought.

 

Alice is quick to leave him alone, closing the door behind her, not before he lets out his surely thousandth thank you of the night. The idea of Betty being just across the hall, easy enough for him to slip past her door in the middle of the night crosses his mind. But, _no_. He wouldn’t dare, because her parents have been so kind, so welcoming. And there is no way he was going to disrespect them by entertaining the idea. And so he sheds to his boxers, tucked under the blanket, eyes closing as soon as his head hits the pillow.

 

~

 

No less than thirty minutes later, the bed dips slightly beside him. _He hadn’t thought of entertaining the idea_ , but apparently Betty has other plans. She’d decided for once in her life, she’d be selfish. Eyes drowsily blinking open, he looks to her, t-shirt and short cotton shorts in all, as she climbs into the bed. His lips part, ready to protest, because although her intentions seem to be more than innocent as she tucks herself into his side, her cheek nuzzling into his bare chest and arm crossing to rest over his abdomen, he doesn’t think her parents would enjoy the idea of her not in her own bed across the hall. And so he tells her silently to go, to which she responds with a drawn out no, like a whining child. Betty disrespecting her parents, _fine._ But him, he’s afraid he’ll be out on the streets in no time and he hadn’t even spent an hour living under their roof.

 

“ _Betts_ -” He’s meant to sound demanding, but it comes out more like a groan from the back of his throat. She whines again, and he knows there isn’t much he can do. He could carry her across the hall, but he was tired, and her skin felt so warm against his, leading him further into a drowsy state. He’s annoyed with himself at the smile that tugs at his lips at the sound of her whining voice. He’s even more annoyed that he’s too in love with her to stop himself from giving her whatever the hell it is she wants. Her leg lifts slightly, drawing over his hip, her foot gently sliding against his calf, almost lulling him to sleep.

 

Her head turns just barely, lips pressing firmly to his bare chest before turning back to rest her cheek there again. He grunts in sleepy satisfaction, the corner of her lips turning upward into a small smile at the sound. Her head lifts, and his eyes open at the loss of her warm skin pressed to his. And with the look in her eyes, it’s then that he realizes her intentions of slipping into his bedroom tonight were _far_ from innocent. He’d fallen asleep with the bedside lamp on, and with that dim amount of light he can tell her eyes had grown so many shades darker. And _damn her_ , because she knows and knows quite well that he doesn’t know how to say no to her. She’s nearly half on top of him by the time she presses her lips softly to his. And from then on it's a blur.

 

Her tongue slides lazily across his. He tastes of honey, and her of vanilla. His hand presses firmly on the back of her left thigh, squeezing lightly, pulling her closer, holding her tighter. Everything about her is soft, warm, smooth, entirely Betty Cooper. He wants to get lost in her.

 

Everything moves in slow motion, hushed whispers and quiet laughter and the wet sound of their lips meeting and parting again and again. His fingertips touch skin where he’s never touched before, usually covered by pink cardigans and tight fit jeans. She’s soft, smooth, _everywhere_ , every inch of her. She slides herself completely on top of him as another minute passes, legs resting on either side of him, his fingertips pressing firmly into the skin of her hips as her t-shirt rises every so slightly. Her lips are swollen, parted as she shallowly exhales, nervous as her fingers pull at the hem of her shirt. She tugs at it quickly, pulling it off and to the side as though she’d just ripped off a bandaid. Her nerves are eating her alive, but his eyes drink her in slowly, mouth opening slightly.

 

“ _Jesus Christ, Betty_ .” His reaction is far from articulate, to which she grins at, blush rising to her cheeks. _Leaving a writer at loss for words? Major confidence boost._ He’d been so desensitized at the sight of the human body, never a thing that got him as wound up as Archie had always seemed to be. But Betty Cooper was a painting of literal perfection, from the peach tones of her skin to the dusty rose pink of her nipples. Every inch of her was absolutely desirable. His thumb presses into the sensitive skin lightly, earning a soft and feminine sigh from her parted lips. He’d sworn his heart skipped a beat at the sound. Another soft touch and another soft sigh, back and forth, back and forth, the sensation getting her hips to rock forward, flush against his. Losing her virginity is something she thought she’d always plan out, talk about. But now she’s here, and she’s perched in his lap, rocking her hips forward as he presses between her thighs, heart beating so fast and she’s not sure enough air is getting to her lungs, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t think of a more perfect way. Light laughter fills his ears as he turns to press her below him, lip between her teeth to silence herself, hoping the noise didn’t travel through the tragically thin walls. The laughter soon dies on her lips as his fingertips run delicately along the exposed skin of her thighs.

 

He’d thought he’d feel too guilty, doing such things under the Cooper’s roof with her parents next door, to feel as wound up as he had. He makes no sudden move to escalate things, tip of his tongue running along the underside of hers, lazily moving his mouth against hers. One arm wraps lightly around his neck, the pressure leaving their noses crushed against one another's. Legs, now crossed behind his back to hold him tightly between her thighs, bare chest against hers, he feels as though he can’t breathe. He wasn’t sure if there was enough oxygen in the room, in the entirety of the world, sure he’d pass out before they’ve even begun with the way her hips roll upward. Without hesitation his hips push forward against hers and her hold on him tightens. Between her thighs, hips rocking back and forth against his, there is friction in all of the right places, beginning to make her feel dizzy. She begins to be frantic in her movements, fingers digging into his arms as she keeps rocking along with him. He shifts just slightly, hitting her just right between her legs, a moan caught in the back of her throat. It feels too much and not enough all at once, both never failing to meet the way her hips push upward as his roll forward. Her hand presses to his chest, pushing him to stop momentarily, her hands pushing her shorts down just about as fast as she could. She gets them halfway down before he takes over, tugging them down over her knees and pulling them over her feet, tossing them quickly to the side. He’s between her legs again, and although there’s still layers, just her shorts gone makes all the difference. He can practically feel the way she’s dampened her underwear through the material of his boxers.

 

His mouth presses so hard against hers that their teeth clash together, and suddenly the friction is all too good, she can’t focus on kissing him anymore, turning her head slightly. His name keeps falling involuntarily from her lips like silent pleas for more. He’s panting now, tongue curling against her jaw, then kissing down further, lips pressed to her collarbone. He bites gently, one more push of his hips and before she knows what’s happening she’s falling completely over the edge. His hand, shaking with the aftershocks of his own orgasm, presses tightly over her mouth as she rides it out. Gasping, his other hand grips her hip impossibly tight.

 

“ _Fuck_ -” He chokes out, voice broken. It’s over as fast as it started, and he expects her to fall limp as he had, but her movements become frantic again, tugging desperately at the edge of his boxers. His eyes shut, letting her kick them down with her feet as he breathes heavily. He wished he’d had restraint, but he feels completely lost in his head when it comes to her. Small hand wrapped around him, she looks down, then back up to him, eyes locked together now as her hand begins to move ever so slightly.

 

“No, _no_. You have to go back to your room.” He finds it within himself to pull her hand away, fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist. She plays it off as though she hadn’t heard him, fingers hooking into the sides of her underwear, tugging them down, kicking them the rest of the way off to rest at his feet. He feels dizzy again. He pushes on her shoulder gently, urging her to go back to bed, but how was she to return to her own room when she feels the way she does. Warm, bare skin sticking to skin, so blissfully sated. She groans in disapproval of his pushing hands, beginning to push back with her own. Betty is so head strong, and he knows he won’t be getting anywhere.

 

 _Fine_.

 

“ _Christ_ -” He groans to himself before pressing back into her, pushing her legs further apart. Looking down, he almost regrets it, feeling dazed at the sight of her incredibly wet between her thighs. Her lip between her teeth, she bites as hard as she can as he rolls his hips forward, slow as possible, fists clenching the bed sheets next to her head, afraid he’d spur of the moment push into her involuntarily. The minutes pass, and its uncomfortable, and its awkward, and they’re just resting there, foreheads pressed together and arms wrapped around each other in suffocatingly tight grips. He pushes forward, she winces, he pulls back, he tries again. Her throat feels dry, and she’s on the verge of losing it, but his hushed promises that it will get better keep her from doing so. Fully inside of her and he swears that he’s done for. Because he is so absolutely fucking in love with her, and now with this new feeling. She’s still uncomfortable and she wants to cry, not because she’s uncomfortable, but because he’s making this all about her, hips stilling at every wince of discomfort, lips pressed almost bruisingly to hers in hopes to distract her from the pain he knows she must be feeling. He’s making this all about her and not at all about him and she loves him for it.

 

Minutes pass before she feels the discomfort dim and fade. And from then on its all a mess of hips rocking back and forth, bitten skin and choked back moans. Her fingertips dig into his hips, holding him tightly and moving him faster with each push forward and each pull back. The way he sighs into her ear is utterly intoxicating, she almost can’t breathe. Words of filth are on the tip of their tongues, but they swallow them, afraid the sound of their voices will travel through the walls. Her leg lifts to rest on his hip, and _shit_ , its so much deeper this way, with her leg raised like that. Thumb sliding across the soft skin of her cheek, then down to the corner of her mouth, her lips enclose around it, wetting it with the tip of her hot tongue. His skin feels as though its set aflame. She sucks lightly, his eyes faltering closed and a moan stuck in the back of his throat. She’s crying out for more, and he’s shamelessly giving her anything and everything she wants, picking up the pace with his face buried between her neck and shoulder. He wants to tell her endlessly how incredibly fucking perfect she is, how long he’s waited for a moment like this, to be with her, inside of her. But he’s at a complete loss for words, and she’s pushing her hips upward relentlessly now, anything he wanted to say dying on his now parted lips. A strained sound passes her lips, her legs are beginning to burn as she pushes up, his hips meeting flush with hers as he fucks her with no rhyme or rhythm. His eyes are struggling to stay open, but he can’t bare to close them. He wants and needs to remember every second, every look on her face as he’s rocking in and out of her.

 

“ _Please_ -” She cries to him silently, unsure of what she’s asking for. Her hips are beginning to ache as she continues to push and pull with his, her body screaming at her to stop, but she can’t. All he can do is nod, threading his fingers through her hair, tugging so she’s forced to face the ceiling, his teeth dragging gently over the pulse of her neck. She cries out again, and his blood begins to pump faster than he thought possible. His eyes drink her in completely from head to toe, from her purple and blue painted neck to where he’s disappearing into her, the delicious sound infiltrating his ears. Her toes begin to curl, her fingers outstretched and her teeth clenched. His fingers unthread from her golden hair as she desperately pulls her head to look downward where his eyes just were moments ago. Her blood rises to boiling temperatures at the sight, her skin feeling as though it was scorched under his touch. His eyes finally have to shut tight, trying to restrain himself from screaming at the intensity of the way she tightens around him. He’s whispering words that bring her closer and she’s gasping, practically choking as his thumb slides between them where they connect, rubbing in tight circles. Before she realizes it, she’s falling into oblivion with him just seconds behind, lips parted at the feeling of him coming inside of her and its the most blissfully overwhelming thing she has ever felt and will ever feel. Wrapped up in each other, still high off of the aftermath, he wishes he’d had the strength to tell her to go back to her room before they both get caught and thrown out on their asses, but he doesn’t give it a second thought, whispering that he loves her before drifting into a well deserved sleep with her in his arms.

 

She wakes completely bare, a mess of sheets around her. Where he’d been resting is still fairly warm, telling her he must of only awoke minutes before her. She’s quick to redress herself, tip toeing out of the bedroom and past her parents already opened door. _Had everyone already been awake before her?_ Laughter travels from the kitchen up the stairs, and the aroma of sickeningly sweet maple syrup and coffee surrounds her. There’s an uncomfortable ache between her thighs, and its slightly hard to walk, but she continues putting one foot in front of the other as she makes her way toward the noise travelling through the house.

 

And he’s standing there, in front of the stove with spatula in hand as her parents are sat at the kitchen table, and they’re laughing at something he must of said. She swears she’d just fallen ten times harder in love with him. He doesn’t notice her until a full minute has passed, and when she shuffles toward him he presses a soft kiss to her cheek. And she knows, _for sure_ , that she could get used to this.

 

He’d planned on getting sleep that night with school being the next day, he’d truly planned on it, but she slips past that door again. And all of a sudden she’s climbing on top of him, sliding her legs over his, rolling her hips and shedding clothes quickly. He hadn’t protested last night, and even if he wanted to now, there was no time for it. She’d already been slipping him between her legs and inside of her as another minute passed. His eyes shut tight at the feeling, because her hold on him is like a vice and he’s afraid he’s going to explode before she’s even begun. She begins rocking back and forth in such hurried desperation, the springs of the bed begin to sigh, making him fear it’ll doom their middle of the night secret. He’s coming inside of her before he even knows it, and she sighs so loudly in satisfaction he has to hush her quickly. She gives him a lopsided smile before falling to his side, planning to stay the night yet again.

 

As if they already weren’t pushing it, she becomes more reckless. There hasn’t been a night since the entirety of the week that he’s lived there where she hasn’t tip toed past that bedroom door and climbed on top of him or slipped underneath him. She opens the bathroom door when he’s showering, sliding open the glass door, climbing in and completely catching him off guard every time. Her parents were always home, always around, she’s completely aware of it but shows no concern over it. Always relaxed while he’s on edge of the idea of it, of them getting caught, to which she has to drop to her knees to calm his nerves.

 

But he’s gotten to the point of being as reckless as her now. As the days past he’d stopped walking on eggshells. _This was his home too now._ And he sure started acting like it. Head ducked under the sheets and blankets of her bed with his face between her thighs, it’d been early in the night, and just as expected Alice pops her head through the door, checking in as always. Betty is quick to pull the blankets up further and is thankful he’s hidden well enough, but it doesn’t stop the fact that his tongue is curling upward, then pressing flat against her, then curling again even as she pushes on his shoulder desperately to stop. She can hardly catch her breath, but she manages to somewhat pull herself together as her mother looks over her.

 

“Jughead isn’t in his room-” Her eyebrow raises at Betty, looking over her flushed face.

 

“Yeah-” Betty chokes out. His lips press harder into her. Its too much, the way she tastes, the way she feels against his tongue, he’s as much of a mess as she is beneath the sheets, fingertips digging into her hips, surely hard enough to bruise.

 

“Yeah, he stopped by A-Archie’s” She manages to get the rest of her sentence out, eyes widening as his tongue curls inside of her again.

 

“Yeah?” She questions.

 

“Well, Archie is downstairs to see you.”

 

“ _Oh_ -” Betty’s cheeks heat up, caught in the lie.

 

“I-Well, he might of gone on a walk.”

 

“ _Maybe_.” She quirks her eyebrow again, slowly shutting the door behind her, Betty pushing the covers back as soon as she’s out of sight.

 

“ _Oh_ and Betty?” Alice’s voice travels through the other side of the door.

 

“Tell Jughead to get back to his room.” She calls out before she disappears down the hall.

 

 _“Jughead.”_ Her teeth grit together, pulling him away by a fist full of his hair. Her face is still flushed, beyond embarassed, to the point where she thinks she’ll pass out.

 

“ _Screw you_.” She seethes, pouting as his lips, curled into a beyond smug grin, press to her cheek. His heart swells at the sight of her, corner of her lips turning into a small smile.

 

“I love you too, Cooper.” He kisses her once more, and he knows he's _home_. Because home isn't a place, it's a feeling he's found within Betty Cooper.


End file.
